Finding a Home
by hestiaA1
Summary: AU-Sequel to "Finding a Family", "Losing a Book", "Adding One More", "Sharing a Family", and "Saving a Friend". This is the last one! Deals with where Harry will spend the summer. Mostly Harry/Snape with some Draco. Mention of corporal punishment
1. Chapter 1

_Finding a Home_

Harry pushed open the door and entered Snape's quarters. In the sitting room in front of him, he could see Hermione and Neville working on the latest Transfiguration homework, while Ron and Draco faced each other across a wizards' chessboard. Noises from beyond the far door indicated that Snape was getting something from his potions supply room. It was such a comfortable, normal scene that it made the Headmaster's recent words all the more intolerable. Rage battled despair, was fueled by frustration and betrayal, and went looking for a target. Any target.

"Potter!" Draco saw the dark haired boy come through the door and was eager for a witness to his checkmating Ron. "About time you got home – you're just in time to - _oof!_"

The word "home", though for once not meant as a taunt, was all it took. Harry stopped dead, then took one giant step forward, punched Draco square in the nose, spun on his heel, and left. He didn't even wait to see the effect of the blow, nor could he have – if pressed – identified his target. He had simply exploded in blind rage then fled, less to escape the consequences than out of fear of what else he might do if he stayed around other people.

Draco meanwhile had been taken completely by surprise. Blood spurted from his nose as, with a howl of pain and astonishment, he fell over backwards, toppling off the footstool on which he'd been sitting and clunking his head against the dungeon's stone floor. Ron leaped up with a cry of alarm, while Hermione and Neville spun around in time to see Draco fall and Harry depart. "Harry!" Hermione shouted, her cry mixing with Neville's yell of "Draco!" and Ron's "What the bloody hell?"

Snape, naturally, came running, but by then Harry was long gone. Draco was in tears of mingled pain and fury, and the three Gryffindors were incoherent.

"SILENCE!" He snapped into ogre mode without hesitation, and instantly silence reigned. Even Draco's sobs were muted to whimpers.

Snape took out his handkerchief and began mopping the blood off Draco's face and inspecting the damage, even as he snapped, "Miss Granger, an explanation if you please."

"I – I'm not sure, sir. Neville and I were studying while Ron and Draco played chess. I heard the door open and I assumed it was Harry. Draco said something and the next thing I heard was the sound of someone getting hit. By the time I looked around, Draco had just fallen and hit his head, and I caught a glimpse of Harry as he left."

Having satisfied himself that his godson's nose was not broken, Snape left it to the boy to keep the handkerchief pressed to his nose while Snape examined the back of his head. There was a tender area, but no lump. "What did you say?" Snape asked sternly, resigned to yet another round of Potter vs Malfoy. The truce had been nice while it lasted, but it had been foolish of him to imagine it could be permanent.

Draco's indignant eyes regarded him over the handkerchief. "I diddit say adyting!" he protested thickly.

"Sir, he didn't," Neville spoke up, frightened but resolute. "I mean, I heard him. He didn't say anything wrong, or even use a nasty tone. Harry just punched him for no reason."

Both Draco and Snape stared at the blond Gryffindor in shock, though for different reasons. "Weasley?" Snape came out of it first and turned to the other witness for confirmation.

The redhead hesitated a moment, clearly unhappy at fingering his best friend, but in the end he nodded. "It's true. Harry walked in, punched Draco, and left. Draco didn't do anything to provoke him."

Snape gritted his teeth. Something must have happened to make Harry act this uncharacteristically, and he was not looking forward to puzzling out what it was. Why couldn't that blasted brat just come and _tell _him when something went wrong? "Get your things together; you'll need to return to your dormitories while I locate Mr Potter."

The Gryffindors exchanged miserable looks at the thought of what would happen to Harry immediately thereafter, but they knew better than to argue. Snape looked down at the Slytherin and was surprised to see Draco's eyes were still streaming with tears. Even with the punch in the nose, he would have thought the boy would have been able to stop crying by now. Out of a desire to spare his godson embarrassment, he ordered, "Come with me, Draco. We need to fix that nosebleed."

Leaving the other students to see themselves out – they were in his quarters so often that the thought didn't disturb him – he guided Draco down to his bathroom. After mopping the boy's face with a cold washcloth, he pinched his nose with one cloth and put another against the back of his neck. He waited while Draco's silent sobs became hiccups, then eased.

"Are you all right?"

Draco nodded, as best he could when his professor was holding his nose in a firm pinch. "Why did dey say dat?" he finally asked.

"What?"

"Aboud Harry. Dey had to dow dat dey were gedding hib idto trouble!"

"Yes?"

"So why did dey tell you? Why diddit dey protect hib?" That was what was bothering Draco so much. The bloody nose had been painful, but when first Longbottom and then the other lions had actually defended him, a Slytherin, he had been stunned. He had expected them to lie in defense of Harry, not to protect him.

He knew full well that they didn't like him at all; they only tolerated his presence because he was Snape's godson, and he only came here to Snape's rooms because he knew it annoyed them. It wasn't like he _enjoyed_ hanging out with a bunch of Gryffindorks, playing chess with the Weasel or going over homework with the mudblood or helping that pathetic Lardbottom figure out which end of his wand was which. He only did those things because he found it amusing to crash their little party and watch them have to grit their teeth and be polite to him. He would have been just as happy back in the Slytherin common room, surrounded by other purebloods. So what if Goyle and Crabbe couldn't manage a coherent thought between the two of them? That didn't mean he _wanted_ to be around a bunch of would-be heroes. He'd much rather hang out with other Slytherins, although after his recent experiences, he was understandably apprehensive about running afoul of the plots and subplots that constantly swirled throughout the House.

But he was suddenly finding it hard to convince himself that he hated them as much as they hated him, when they weren't acting as if they hated him very much at all. In fact, they were treating him a lot better than any bunch of Slytherins would have treated a lone Gryffindor in their midst.

Draco was familiar with duplicity, contempt, hatred, and fear. But kindness and respect were strange and confusing. He wasn't sure why he felt such a warm, safe feeling deep inside himself. Surely he should be feeling nothing but scorn for the other students' actions. Right?

"I assume they told the truth," Snape said carefully, "because they did not want to see you unjustly blamed."

"But why would dey do dat?" his godson demanded, his voice shaking. Snape looked into the boy's eyes and saw confusion, doubt, and a tentative, almost frightened gleam of hope. Draco had been ruthlessly schooled since infancy in a code of eugenics which made Darwin's concept of "nature red in tooth and claw" seem positively benign. He had been told over and over again by Lucius that a Malfoy was to be feared, not liked; that other children were either worthwhile associates who should be cultivated as valuable contacts for later life or inferior drones who were to be exploited and/or insulted.

But now, thanks to his godfather, he found himself amongst a group of children who lived by a very different set of beliefs, and he was beginning to hope against hope that they might actually like him for himself. Despite his best efforts to convince himself to the contrary, Draco found he _did_ enjoy the company of people of whom he knew his father would disapprove. If Lucius found out that Draco were hanging out with Gryffindors, let alone _these_ Gryffindors, he would make his displeasure very, very clear. Yet Draco was, despite himself, having a good time. He found himself beginning to question his father's pureblood beliefs and struggling to convince himself of their value. He reminded himself that the others hated him for being a proud pureblood as much as he despised Granger for her Muggleborn status. But now… he wasn't able to convince himself of their hatred anymore.

Snape's Slytherin heart rejoiced. It had worked. The boy might yet have a chance to escape his upbringing and not end up as a mere extension of Lucius. If Sirius Black could break with his family, why not Draco Malfoy? If Snape had anything to say about it, the Dark Lord would not be getting his godson without a fight. "You will have to ask them that question," he replied calmly, not letting his exultation show, "but it would appear that they consider you one of their group and therefore entitled to the same protection and consideration as the rest of them."

"But I'b a Slydderid! Dey ratted out Podder to you – I dow dey like hib bore dan me."

"Yes, I'm sure they do, but that doesn't mean they will allow him to treat you badly or protect him if he does so."

Draco didn't know how to feel. On the one hand, he was immensely gratified that the other three students had stuck up for him, but on the other hand, he was well aware that his own behavior back in Slytherin was in direct opposition to the ideals the Gryffindors had just embodied. As the unofficial "Prince of Slytherin", Draco routinely protected people he liked and harassed those he didn't. It was just part of the life his father had taught him: take what you can, however you can. As a pureblood and a Death Eater, Lucius used the power and influence at his command to promote his own interests; his son was already doing the same thing in miniature at Hogwarts. But here were three Gryffindors who were doing everything wrong, at least by Lucius' standards, and yet it _felt_ awfully good to be on the receiving end.

"Do all Gryffindors act like dis?"

"More or less," Snape agreed.

"Dey're stubid!" Draco announced, a bit desperately.

"Mm. Many in this House think so." Snape refused to be drawn.

"Whad do _you_ dink?"

Snape released his godson's nose but didn't relinquish his firm grasp on the back of his neck. He locked gazes and said gravely, "I think that's a question you must answer for yourself. There are certainly a multitude of Gryffindorish tendencies that I would not encourage you to emulate, and their fairness and willingness to do the right thing regardless of personal cost are foreign to many in our House. But our House was never meant to be a haven for Dark Wizards – we symbolize cunning and stealth, the ability to think our way around and over obstacles. All ideals which are incompatible with blindly following anyone, be it a parent, teacher, or leader. You must choose your own path in life, Draco, and you must realize that your path will be much smoother if you have friends to guard your back. Not merely allies who are at your side so long as it is expedient for them to do so, but genuine friends who will remain with you no matter the odds. Harsh times lie ahead, and you must make your own decisions where your loyalties lie. Tonight you have seen that no doors are yet closed against you. Even Gryffindors will call you friend if you wish it. It's up to you."

Draco pulled away, abruptly uncomfortable. If his father knew what he was thinking… he shuddered. "What are you going to do to Potter?" he demanded, turning to what seemed a safer topic.

"You know perfectly well that he will be punished for his actions," Snape replied firmly. "I assume you are not asking for details of that punishment?"

"No, no!" Draco hastily backpedaled. "I just was wondering why he acted that way. I mean, he seemed fine in class, and none of the others said that anything seemed to be bothering him, so what do you think happened?"

"I don't know, but I plan to find out."

_TBC..._


	2. Chapter 2

Harry's feet were functioning better than his brain at the moment. Correctly realizing that he would be waylaid by his friends in the Gryffindor Common Room or dormitory, and that Snape was already well-aware of his usual haunts of the Owlry, Astronomy Tower, and Moaning Myrtle's lavatory, his feet took him to a place where his welcome was assured but others were unlikely to find him: the kitchens.

His arrival caused the usual stir among the house elves, but his request for a cup of cocoa and a quiet, hidden corner were promptly fulfilled. By the time he had finished his hot chocolate, his mind had emerged from the white-hot rage that had consumed him, and the enormity of his actions dawned on him.

Snape was going to kill him.

And when the professor was finished with him, Draco would have Crabbe and Goyle jump on what few scraps of tattered flesh remained.

But the worst part of all was that Harry deserved it.

He still wasn't sure how it had happened. The Dursleys had treated him unfairly thousands of times, and he just took it and took it. He had never snapped like this before, never took out his fury on some poor soul who just happened to be standing there. _Oh, Merlin! Did I just think of Draco and "poor soul" at the same time?_

But this time, he was so angry with Dumbledore that he thought his head would explode, and what did he do? He went straight to Snape's and punched the first person who spoke to him. Harry wasn't sure he wouldn't have socked Ron if he had been the one to address him. He had acted out of pure fury, not rational thought. At least Draco would have attacked someone in order to make himself feel better. Harry didn't even have that excuse.

Harry sighed. He knew Snape wouldn't actually _kill_ him nor let Draco's goons hurt him – much – but he also knew he was going to get about a million detentions and one heck of a spanking. And he also knew that he couldn't console himself with the thought that Snape was overreacting or being unreasonable or unfair. He had behaved very, very badly and done something even Draco would have scorned. Draco would never have been dumb enough to just walk in and punch him in the middle of Snape's _quarters_, for Merlin's sake. Harry groaned. He was a complete idiot. And – based on his actions – not a very nice person, either.

Well, he might not be able to do much about being an idiot, but he could at least try to fix the other. "Twinkle," he called to a nearby house elf. When the little creature promptly came over, twittering with glee at the prospect of being of service to Master Harry Potter, he asked her to bring Draco Malfoy to him. He could at least apologize to the other boy, not that he expected him to accept it.

"Yes, Master Harry Potter Sir! Twinkle is getting Master Draco for youse!" she popped away, clapping her hands in excitement.

Harry figured there was a good chance he was about to get a retaliatory punch in the nose, but he still had to say he was sorry. He knew Snape would make him apologize again, in public, but he also knew that Draco would – quite rightly – scorn that apology as one coerced by threat of gruesome punishment. Harry wanted Draco to know that he really _was_ sorry, even if the Slytherin just sneered at him.

He sort of hoped that Draco would try to punch him, because he expected that the house elves around them would react very badly to the sight of the unpopular (at least with house elves) Malfoy attacking him, the elves' favorite student. Then he berated himself for wanting to see Malfoy covered in chocolate pudding and pinched till he was black and blue; he needed to remember that, thanks to him, Draco was the victim in this situation and _he_ was the villain. Still, it was comforting to realize that however much Draco might want (or be entitled to) revenge, he wasn't going to be able to exact it right then and there.

A moment later, Twinkle reappeared, a struggling Draco in her grasp. "Here he is, Master Harry Potter Sir! Just as youse asked!"

"Potter, you f–" Draco visibly got a grip on his tongue. Profanity was something the lower classes used. "I see you're moving up from assault to kidnapping, Potter. The Headmaster will be very interested in this, I'm sure."

"Twinkle! I didn't tell you to kidnap him!" Harry exclaimed in horror. "I just wanted to talk to him."

"Oh no! Master Harry Potter Sir is angry with Twinkle!" the hapless house elf wailed.

"No, wait!" Harry grabbed her just as she was about to bang her head against the flagstone floor. "I'm not angry. I just – erm – was surprised by your initiative. Good job."

"Really?" Twinkle gasped with delight. At Harry's nod, she danced away, ecstatic over his praise. Harry turned guiltily to Draco.

"Uh, sorry about that. I forget that house elves can get a little carried away. I really only wanted to talk to you."

"And if _I_ don't want to talk to _you_? What are you going to do, punch me again? Oh wait, let me close my eyes so you can take me by surprise like last time."

Harry colored. "Malfoy, can I please just apologize? You know I'm going to catch holy hell over what I did. I just wanted to say I'm sorry before Snape catches up with me."

Draco sneered. "Yeah, right, Potter. Like you really regret hitting me. The only thing you're sorry about is that Snape is going to punish you. Are you apologizing in the hopes I'll tell him to go easy on you?"

"Yeah, right. Malfoy, the only thing less likely than you asking Snape to go easy on me is him listening to you if you did. We both know what I'm in for, all right? I don't think he'd let me off if I fell off the Astronomy Tower and was in the Infirmary with a dozen broken bones. He'd just levitate me into position the second I regained consciousness." Despite himself, Draco couldn't suppress a snort of laughter at the mental image Harry had conjured up. Harry managed a rueful grin of his own. "And besides if I were trying to make points with Snape, would I really have brought you down to where I'm hiding out? You think the house elves care that I'm apologizing?"

Draco's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "So why _are_ you apologizing, Potter? You can't expect me to believe you actually mean it."

"Look, Malfoy, we both know that you do plenty of things that I would be more than justified to hit you for, and in those cases the only way you'll hear an apology from me is if Snape is making me. But whether or not you believe me, I _am_ sorry for hitting you today. I wasn't even mad at you. You were just in front of me when I lost it. And so for once you didn't deserve it and yeah, I'm sorry." Harry looked hopefully at Draco, but the Slytherin's expression was inscrutable. As the seconds ticked by, Harry glanced furtively around to make sure the house elves were otherwise occupied, then leaned forward and whispered, "Look, if you want to punch me back, go ahead. I won't tell."

"And let you show Snape your own bloody nose? I don't think so! Is this a set-up, Potter?"

Harry sighed. "No. Sheesh, Malfoy, you have a suspicious mind. I just thought you might feel better if you punched me. I forgot that you punch like a girl. That's why you keep Crabbe and Goyle around."

"Shut up, Potter!" Malfoy snapped. "Just because Malfoys prefer not to bruise our knuckles like you brawling troglodytes doesn't mean we can't punch when we want to. I'm just not willing to let you off so easily."

Now it was Harry's turn to frown in suspicion. "What do you want, Malfoy? I already apologized."

"In Slytherin, if you do someone an injury, you're expected to make it up to him. So," Draco looked at him expectantly, "what are you offering?"

_TBC..._


	3. Chapter 3

Snape started his investigation easily enough with a series of floo calls. "Minerva, have you seen Potter this afternoon?" he asked.

"Not since class. Why?"

"I'm looking for him. Any idea where he went after your class?"

"I think he and his friends said something about using their study period to prepare for Filius' quiz. They didn't seem too worried about it though – well, except for Miss Granger, but you know how she is."

Snape rolled his eyes. "All too well. Thank you, Minerva."

Similar calls to Flitwick, Hagrid, and Sprout turned up nothing noteworthy. All reported that Harry had been his usual self and didn't seem to be planning any unusual activities. The only time Severus couldn't account for was the thirty minutes after dinner and immediately before Harry burst into his quarters. As a long shot, Snape floo'd the Headmaster.

"Severus!" Dumbledore greeted him genially. "I've been expecting you, my boy. Come on through."

Snape stepped into the Headmaster's office, frowning. "You were expecting me?"

"Yes, well, Harry seemed a bit quiet after our talk, and I thought you might want –"

"What talk?" Snape interrupted. He knew he should have let Dumbledore ramble on and tell the story in his own time, but he was too impatient to wait.

"Lemon drop? No? Well, I asked Harry to stop by to discuss summer plans. He had been under the impression that he would be staying here at Hogwarts with you, so I explained that that was impossible."

Snape's eyebrows drew together in an even more fearsome scowl. "You didn't think to have me present at this discussion?"

"Severus, as you have pointed out, it is important for you to maintain a good relationship with the boy. As unpleasant as it is for me to be the bearer of ill tidings, I felt it was better that I be the one to break the bad news about his returning to the Dursleys."

"WHAT?" Snape bellowed. "Return him to those abusive Muggles? Are you insane?"

"Severus," Dumbledore said patiently, "I will of course make arrangements for Aurors to visit the home regularly to ensure that he was not harmed. But the blood wards –"

"- are irrelevant if there is no love to sustain them! The Dursleys don't need to beat Harry to damage him. What do you think a summer of being called a worthless freak will do to him? And do you really imagine that having Aurors coming by is going to endear him to those magic-hating sadists? Are you so naïve as to believe that Harry would be safe in their care? They'll just time the beatings so the Aurors don't see them. Even his walrus of an uncle is smart enough to do that, and Potter knows it."

"Severus, I'm glad you feel so protective towards Harry, but we must be reasonable. With Voldemort's location a mystery and the Death Eaters regaining their strength, we must take every precaution to keep Harry safe. I'm sure you have plans of your own, and Harry cannot remain at Hogwarts unsupervised. Although his friends' families might offer to host him, that won't answer either. The Weasleys are off to Egypt to visit Bill, and while they have offered to take Harry along with them, it is much too dangerous. The Grangers are Muggles and therefore vulnerable, Mrs Longbottom is getting on in years and can't supervise a child as – curious – as Harry can be. Who else is there? No, my boy," Dumbledore didn't wait for an answer, "as much as it pains me to admit it, the Dursleys remain Harry's only option. We will simply have to do what we can to protect him while he's there."

"And this is what you told him?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said sadly. "He took it very well, really. It was clearly not the news he'd hoped to hear, but he just nodded and said he'd make arrangements for Hagrid to keep Hedwig here. He recognized that the owl's presence would unsettle his relatives."

"You mean he realized his relatives were all too likely to kill her!" Snape exploded. "That child has more sense than you, Albus! What are you thinking? Do you have any idea of the damage you've done? Potter finally reveals the Muggles' abuse to us, and your response is to send him back to them? Are you _trying_ to teach him not to trust us? You might as well tie a bow around his neck and send him to the Dark Lord! Lucius Malfoy couldn't do a better job of turning him away from the Light. How can you possibly justify this to yourself?"

"But, Severus," Dumbledore argued, taken aback by the Potion Master's palpable fury, "there are no other choices. I agree it's not ideal but Harry has accepted –"

"No, Albus, he has _not_. He was simply incapable of directing his anger at the person who deserves it and instead took it out on the first person who crossed his path. By now, I am quite certain he will have started taking it out on himself, aided by the additional guilt he now bears for striking an innocent. You are a fool, Albus, and I will _not_ have you damage this boy any further with your crackpot ideas."

"Then what will –"

"_I_ will take him for the summer," Snape snarled, "and what is more, I will be filing for permanent custody of the boy. If there is so much as a _hint_ of interference from you, old man, I will transfer him to Durmstrang so fast your beard will fall off. Do you understand me?"

"My heavens, Severus, have a lemon drop and calm down," Albus urged. "If you feel this strongly about the matter, I will not oppose you."

"See that you don't!" Snape snapped, robes billowing as he stalked out of the office. It was a magnificent exit, though the Potion Master might have been a bit nonplused if he had seen the satisfied smirk on Dumbledore's face as the door closed behind him.

_TBC..._


	4. Chapter 4

Snape was not foolish enough to waste his time and energy searching Hogwarts for one missing 12 year old. Instead, he summoned the head house elf and demanded to know where Potter was. He knew perfectly well that the house elves kept a close tab on The Boy Who Lived.

"Weeeeelll, Master Harry Potter Sir is being very busy just now," Hortense prevaricated. "Perhaps Professor Master Snape should be waiting –"

"Where. Is. He?" Snape said in the quiet, silky tones that made even the most irritating house elf shut up.

"Kitchens!" squeaked Hortense then vanished with a pop.

Snape swept down to the kitchens, alternating between rage at the blinkered old fool of a Headmaster and exasperation at Harry's childish outburst. Now he was going to have to play the ogre once more and punish Harry when the boy had merely been lashing out under a burden that would have reduced most adults to catatonia. If only Harry had controlled his temper for another minute or two, Snape could have stepped in and for once, Harry would have had a happy outcome. But now, Snape was going to have to discipline the boy – and given the victim, he could hardly make it a token punishment – and by the time that the dust had settled, Harry would hardly greet the news that Snape was to be his guardian with unmitigated delight.

Yes, it was good news that Harry no longer just accepted unfair treatment whether it was at the hands of his uncle or his Headmaster, but he obviously needed to work on how he dealt with his newly unleashed anger. Snape sighed. He would never admit it to anyone, but he would dearly love to let the boy off with a warning just this once. Of course, he knew full well that that was the worst thing he could do for the boy. Harry needed _one_ adult in his life who was consistent in holding him accountable to pre-established rules, and it was just Snape's luck that it had to be him.

Harry knew perfectly well that it was unacceptable to punch someone like that, and letting him off would not only teach him the kind of lesson that Tom Riddle had embraced ("You're special. You've had a really hard life. Rules shouldn't apply to you."), but it would also send a different, equally dangerous message to Draco ("You don't matter. You don't count. People can hurt you and get away with it."). So once again, thanks to that bumbling idiot, Snape was going to have to be the heavy-handed martinet and at the worst possible moment.

How in Merlin's name was he supposed to scorch the boy's backside one minute then break the news about his summer plans the next, and _not_ have the boy think that it was a punishment? Dumbledore had already convinced the boy that no one cared enough about him to take him for the summer, so he was sure to assume that Snape was doing so only out of a sense of duty or obligation. That would hardly set the stage for a pleasant, productive summer. The brat would probably spend the first six weeks misbehaving out of a displaced sense of worthlessness, angst, resentment, and despair.

Snape entered the kitchens and made his way to the farthest, darkest, most hidden corner. If he were a worried second year, hiding out from a furious Potions Master, that's where he'd be. Sure enough, as he drew closer, he heard Potter's voice.

"So? Have you had enough?"

"Oh, Merlin, Potter..." Snape stopped short. What was Draco doing down here? He faded into the shadows even as he edged his way closer.

"Well?" Potter's voice was – strange. There was an undercurrent of frustration and threat and… amusement?

"Potter, please…" The hairs on the back of Snape's neck rose. _Draco Malfoy_ _begging_? What on earth could Potter be doing to him?

"You want _more_?" Yes, there was definitely something – off – about Potter's tone. Snape fought down an unaccustomed sense of fear. Could Potter be more Dark than anyone had suspected? Was today's outburst more characteristic than anyone had guessed? He moved closer still.

"Merlin…" Draco's voice trailed off into little moans, and Snape gathered himself to jump out and halt whatever depraved little torture session Potter was conducting.

"Good grief, Malfoy, you'd think you've never had ice cream before." Potter's words caught Snape in mid-leap.

"This isn't ice cream, Potter. It's ambrosia. Gimme more."

"It's called a hot fudge sundae, Malfoy, and it's not even that hard to find. Maybe you should spend more time on Muggle Studies."

"Yeah, right, Potter. And after my father beats me to death, I can have all the hot fudge sundaes I want in Muggle heaven. Shut up and tell the house elf to bring me another one."

"Oh, come on, Draco. It's a stupid sundae. Your father won't –"

"Shut it, Potter. You're not the only one with scars on your back," Draco sneered. "Do you have any idea what my father did when I made the mistake of asking to wear Muggle clothes one time?"

"Well, it couldn't have been any worse than what my uncle did to me the time I made the glass in the snake exhibit at the zoo disappear," Harry retorted.

"Whinge whinge whinge. All those Muggles could do was hit you, right? Do you have any idea how many curses there are?"

"All right, congratulations, you win. Here's your stupid sundae," Harry said resignedly.

"Ha! Never try to outcompete a Malfoy, Potter. Besides, what are you bleating about? It's not like you have to go back there. I'm stuck with my father."

Harry snorted but didn't reply.

Draco gave him a sharp look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Dumbledore's sending me back."

"What? Why?"

Harry shrugged, elaborately nonchalant. "Guess that your father and his friends have spooked him, so he wants me safe with my loving family."

"So if the Death Eaters don't finish you off, your uncle will? I thought the Headmaster _liked_ you, Potter."

"Yeah, well, I thought you wanted to be a Death Eater just like your dear old daddy, Malfoy," Harry snarled back.

"Just because I don't like mudbloods doesn't mean I want to join a psycho who _Crucio's_ his own followers," Malfoy retorted. "Besides, anything that both my father _and_ my loony aunt Bella agree upon is definitely a bad idea. But try telling that to my father and you'd better be able to keep up your _Protego_ for the next forty years or so."

Harry sighed. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Dumbledore says that he'll send the Aurors by every week or so to make sure I'm okay, but since they won't be able to take me away from there even if they see something, it's not like they're going to be any help."

"Huh. Hope you're good at glamours, Potter. You're going to need them. Better keep the Aurors fooled or your uncle will really kick the snot out of you. Sev once saw me after a whipping and yelled at my father. Father nearly killed me that night. I couldn't walk for a week, and that was _with_ the healing charms my house elf smuggled in."

"Merlin, Malfoy, if your father treats you like that, then why are you such a git? I'd think you'd be nicer to people."

"And let them treat me like shite? You need to get control of people fast and keep it, Potter, and you do that through fear."

"You're an idiot."

"You're a moron."

"Death Eater."

"Gryffindork."

Harry sighed. "Finish your sundae. I'm all done with mine, and I need to go see Snape and get this over with."

Draco scraped up a spoonful of fudge and licked it, his eyes glazing over with pleasure. "_Merlin_, this is good."

"Just remember, the house elves only smuggle it in for _me_, so you'd better not tell anyone about our discussion."

"Right, Potter, like anyone would believe we've been sitting here chatting like a couple of girls. You're really dim, you know that?"

"I mean it, Malfoy. I better not hear anything about my relatives from Crabbe and Goyle or you'll never get another hot fudge sundae as long as you live."

"Relax. If I tell your secrets, you'll tell mine. Besides, you have the upper hand. If you tell my father about this, he really will kill me. Or make me wish he had."

Harry frowned. "So why _did_ you tell me? That's not exactly a Slytherin thing to do."

"Because I can hardly complain about my father to anyone in my House, now can I? What did you call them? Oh yeah, a bunch of Junior Death Eaters. If Goyle heard me say anything even remotely critical of my father and then mentioned it to _his_ father, I'd be back at Malfoy Manor in no time, and you can imagine what would happen next. Besides, you're a nauseatingly honorable Gryffindor. I could probably say almost anything and you'd feel honor-bound to keep your mouth shut."

"Snake."

"Dimwit."

"Dark Lord in Training."

"No, no, Potter. That would be _you_. Haven't you figured that out yet? Hey, you do know I was serious about not going to Sev, right? I mean, thanks for the apology and the hot fudge sundae and all, but I still want your arse blistered for punching me," Draco smirked.

"You're evil, you know that?"

"Goes with the House," Draco agreed, licking his spoon with great satisfaction.

Snape withdrew as silently as he had approached.

_TBC..._


	5. Chapter 5

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He felt better than he had expected he would. Draco was actually kind of fun to talk to, once he'd gotten enough ice cream and fudge sauce inside him. He had a snarky sense of humor that Harry enjoyed but that neither Ron nor Hermione really appreciated. He was a lot like Snape, actually, except for the part about refusing to put himself in any danger. Draco made no bones about wanting to avoid pain in any form, hence both his secret disaffection for Voldemort and his outward obedience to Lucius' schemes.

When the two boys were stuck in the infirmary together, they'd actually had quite a few interesting chats. Discovering that they both had suffered numerous injuries at the hands of the very people who were supposed to care for them the most, had more or less opened the conversational floodgates. Draco still held pureblood beliefs that Harry found disgusting. Harry still intended to defeat Voldemort, which Draco considered insanely suicidal. But other than that, there were plenty of topics on which they agreed. The awfulness of Snape's punishments being an obvious one.

That thought reminded Harry of where he was going, and he groaned aloud. He was under no illusion that the next thirty minutes would be pleasant. He just wondered how hellish they would actually be. Knowing Snape… He sighed and forced his dragging footsteps onwards.

#

"Enter." Snape laid down his quill and looked at the boy who had just slipped into the room. His eyebrow rose fractionally.

"Look, before you say anything, just hear me out, okay?" the boy said rapidly. "What I'm about to say is going to sound ridiculous, but I'm serious. I don't want to tell you why and I don't want to talk about it either, all right?"

Snape inclined his head in agreement.

"Okay," Draco took a deep breath then released it in a rush. "I don't think you should hit Potter. He already apologized to me and he's kind of having a bad day, so maybe you should really scare him, but actually go kind of easy on him. Just whatever you do, _don't_ tell him I said so."

"Is that all?" Snape inquired calmly.

"Yes. Um…can I go?" Draco asked awkwardly.

"Yes."

At the door, Draco paused and looked back, a worried look on his face. "Uncle Sev, is it Slytherin to…" he trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

"Yes, Draco. It is _very_ Slytherin to keep others guessing by acting unexpectedly. Ten points."

His godson grinned and vanished.

Four minutes later, Potter appeared. "Um, Professor, can I come in?"

"_May_ I."

Potter looked confused. "May you what?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Get in here, Potter."

Harry reluctantly edged his way forward. "I – I came to apologize."

Snape just looked at him. Harry swallowed hard. "And – and for my punishment for punching Malfoy."

"Explain your behavior."

Harry dropped his gaze. What was the point of going into details? Snape must know about the summer plans – it wasn't like the Headmaster wouldn't consult him before talking to Harry – so if he complained about them, he'd just sound like a whinging baby. Of course, if he didn't explain, it would look like he'd deliberately punched Draco.

He decided to compromise. "I – I was upset, and I just lost my temper. It wasn't anything Draco said or did. I didn't even know I was going to punch him before I did it. I'm really sorry." He hung his head.

"I see. And what was so calamitous that it drove all rational thought from your head?"

Eyes still downcast, Harry shrugged one shoulder. "Doesn't matter. Shouldn't have behaved that way."

"You are correct. How do you hope to reach adulthood, let alone defeat the Dark Lord, if you cannot even control your own temper? How does your action towards Draco differ from that of your uncle, lashing out at you whenever he had a bad day at work?"

The rebuke struck Harry like a blow. He hadn't thought of it in that light, but his taking his frustration out on Draco was exactly like what Uncle Vernon used to do – and would soon be doing again. That was it. The tears began to flow.

"Regardless of how you are feeling, it is _never_ acceptable to strike out blindly," Snape scolded. "Don't you remember what it feels like to be the recipient of such violence? The bewilderment, hurt, anger? How could you cause someone else to feel that way?"

Harry couldn't suppress his sobs. He was turning into his uncle, the one thing he'd always sworn he'd never become.

"When you became upset, why did you not use your Occlumency lessons to calm yourself _before_ you reached the point where you lost complete control?"

Harry stared at him, shocked through his tears. It had never occurred to him to use Occlumency in such a manner.

"Potter," the professor snapped impatiently, "did you never think that the Dark Lord will _taunt_ you? That he too will try to upset you? That he will say dreadful things in the hopes of making you lose control and thus lose your focus and ability to fight or defend yourself? What do you think mind control is all about?"

"I – I didn't…" Great, now Harry felt both guilty _and_ stupid.

"If you are this inept, you obviously require additional tutelage," Snape frowned. "You will now have an extra Occlumency lesson on Saturdays, and I better not hear any complaints about your lack of free time. In addition, you will spend an extra thirty minutes before bedtime meditating and clearing your mind of excessive emotion. That means," he said pointedly, "that until further notice, your bedtime is moved up half an hour. Perhaps if you get more sleep you will be able to demonstrate greater emotional control than a cranky two year old."

Harry longed to protest that none of the other Gryffindors even _had_ a bedtime, but as upset as he was, he really wasn't suicidal.

"Furthermore, I expect a three foot essay on the dangers of an abused child becoming an abuser himself, along with ways to avoid falling into that trap." Harry nodded resignedly. With final exams coming up, he needed another essay like he needed a hole in the head, but he couldn't really argue that this wasn't an appropriate punishment. Besides, it might actually prove helpful.

"And you will of course apologize to Mr Malfoy."

"Yes, sir." Harry gulped. Here it came. Now that the preliminaries had been attended to, it was time for the painful part of the evening.

But Snape wasn't moving from his seat at the desk.

Harry waited a minute, confused.

"Was there something else, Mr Potter?"

"What – what about the rest of my punishment?" Harry managed to stammer.

"The rest?"

"Aren't you going to, erm, you know?"

"Ah, yes. Thank you for reminding me. Come here."

Harry took a deep breath and stepped over to Snape's chair, waiting for the professor to push his chair back and haul Harry across his knee.

"Here." The Potions Master handed him a piece of parchment.

Blankly, Harry took it. "What's this, sir?"

"An ever refreshing parchment. It will erase itself once you have completed 100 lines upon it so that you can start again. I expect 100 lines of 'I will learn to control my temper, my emotions, and my mind' every week for the next ten weeks."

"That's a thousand lines!" Harry gasped in shock.

"Yes."

"But – but – Every week for the next ten weeks? That will take me right through the end of the summer holidays!"

"Yes."

Harry stared at the man. Was he being deliberately dim? "Sir, I won't be able to do this over the summer."

"Then you can expect a spanking for not completing your punishment, Mr Potter," Snape said severely. "Perhaps I was in error to think that you already understood the seriousness of your behavior and therefore did not require corporal chastisement."

Harry blinked, trying to decipher the professor's statement. His eyes grew wide as he realized the import of the words. "You're not going to whack me?!"

Snape forced back his snickers. It really had been fun to mess with the brat's mind like that. But now he needed to explain things.

"Harry," he said, his use of the boy's first name causing emerald eyes to fly to meet his own. "I will only 'whack' you if I think you have not appreciated the consequences of your actions. I do it to get your attention as well as to dissuade you from continuing with inappropriate behavior. I believed that in this case, you are already well-aware that you were in the wrong and that such actions must not happen again. Was my assessment incorrect?"

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "I – I do understand. I really do," he promised. Then another thought struck him, and the tears threatened to spill out. "But I _can't_ do the lines. Uncle Vernon won't let me have a quill and parchment. I can try to hide them or use Muggle pen and paper, but –"

"Harry, do you really think I would allow you to go back to the Dursleys? I had assumed you would spend the summer with me."

Now Harry was _really_ crying. "The Headmaster won't let me. He said –"

"I have already spoken to the Headmaster this evening, Mr Potter," Snape said, his voice deliberately sharp. "And I have made it clear that where my ward is concerned, _I_ make the decisions, not him. So you can stop trying to weasel out of your punishment. You _will_ be doing 100 lines a week, or you will find sitting down acutely painful. Do you understand?"

The snarl at the end of the words was masterfully delivered, but the accompanying glare went unnoticed by its intended recipient. Harry flung himself at Snape, his arms twining so tightly around the professor's neck that Snape had to fight for air. Out of sheer self-defense (or so he told himself), his arms went around the boy's sobbing form.

"Shh. All right, all right. That's enough," Snape soothed as Harry wept into his robes, hoping to calm the little fiend quickly. He _wasn't _being caring, dammit, it was just that prolonged emotional outbursts made his head hurt.

Harry clung tighter, shoulders shaking. Great. More snot. And this time on the shoulder of his robes. Even more attractive.

After several more minutes of Harry's heart-wrenching sobs, Snape began to wonder if he shouldn't have simply swatted the boy. At least he composed himself reasonably quickly after a spanking.

"Harry, you'll make yourself sick. Calm down or I'm going to have to get you a potion," Snape finally said, tapping the boy's rear to get his attention. The threat of a potion had the desired effect. Harry's tears subsided into hiccups.

Snape stifled a sigh and hoisted the boy onto his lap, letting him lean against him. Harry was really much too old for this sort of thing, though Merlin knew he didn't get any affection when he was younger. He handed Harry a handkerchief and waited patiently as the brat mopped his face and honked his nose. "Really, Potter," Snape said once it was clear that the boy could actually focus on what was being said to him, "what part of 'you must learn to _control_ your emotions' was unclear to you?"

"S-sorry, Pr'fes'r," Harry mumbled, but he didn't sound particularly apologetic. His green eyes gleamed beneath his fringe. "So I really get to stay with you for the summer?" he asked.

"Yes," Snape said forbiddingly. "And you had best resign yourself to a great deal of studying. No more of this doing your assignments on the Hogwarts Express or expecting to copy Miss Granger's notes on the reading material. You will complete your schoolwork, obey your assigned bedtime, and adhere to my rules. You will also assist me in my laboratory, as that may help your dismal performance in Potions, and complete any additional homework I see fit to assign."

"You're going to make me read ahead? That's so unfair! No one else has to do _extra_," Harry whined. Only the delight in his eyes gave away the game.

"Do you imagine I will allow _my _ward to remain a mediocre student?" Snape retorted testily. "If I cannot get you to assimilate the knowledge in here –" he tapped Harry's forehead "- then I shall attempt to motivate you from here –" he administered a light swat to Harry's bum. "And I shall have the whole summer to do it, Mr Potter, so be warned."

"You probably won't let me fly even a little bit," Harry complained, but he watched Snape very, very carefully through his fringe.

"You're right. No flying," Snape agreed, hiding his smirk as Harry's eyes grew wide with horror. "…Unless you have behaved yourself _and_ completed your daily assignment _and_ eaten all your meals properly, including the vegetables."

"Well, I guess I'll have to do the lines then," Harry muttered as sulkily as he could manage.

"You may do the first hundred tonight," Snape ordered. "The essay can wait until after exams are finished, but you will be sure to apologize to Mr Malfoy before lunchtime tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

Snape eyed the boy assessingly. Harry was doing his best to hide the beaming smile that threatened to burst out any second, but it was clear he would soon lose the battle. On the other hand, his eyes were red from weeping and his cheeks were splotched with tears. Under the circumstances, it was probably the best time to send him back to his dorm. Anyone who saw the boy would assume Snape had thoroughly punished him for striking Draco, thus preserving the Potion Master's fearsome reputation.

"You will go straight to your dormitory, Mr Potter, and complete the first set of lines before bed. No dawdling in the common room or exchanging gossip with your little friends. Do I make myself clear?" He had the boy up and moving to the door before he knew what was going on.

Harry stopped dead. "No biscuits?" he asked, shocked.

Snape opened the door. "On top of all that ice cream, Mr Potter? Do you want to end up as rotund as your cousin? Now be off with you." And he turned the open-mouthed child around and gave him a brisk swat that sent him scampering on his way.

Harry hurried out of the dungeons, his mind in a whirl. How could Snape know about the ice cream? Had Draco told him? But that was impossible! But if he knew about the ice cream, then what else did he know about? And was that why Harry had escaped a walloping?

But all that was almost irrelevant. The one, all-encompassing, blissful thought Harry had was that he _wasn't_ going to have to go back to the Dursleys. Snape could have threatened to smack him every day of the summer holidays and twice on Tuesdays, and he would still have preferred to go with him. But instead, Harry was going to be able to eat and study and fly and be a normal kid. Snape might, just might, even allow Harry to have a real birthday cake. Harry grinned. This was going to be one heck of a summer.

_FIN_

**_Thanks to all who requested sequels to "Finding a Family"! Hope you enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them. :)_**


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